I felt strange. As if someone had just clenched his hands around my throat and hit me in the head with something heavy. Because it was impossible! Well, of course I had not been there with him when You-Know-Who had killed him, but Harry Potter himself had been talking about it. I still remembered that moment perfectly that moment. No-one had really liked Professor Snape but no-one had hoped he would die.

Well, that time had been honestly quite difficult to me. I do not really know how I had managed to get back to school for my fourth year. It had been the time when the Muggles had been oppressed. One of the wizarding families I knew had somehow managed to prove that – in some very twisted way – I was related to them. Whenever I thought about it, I could not help but feel that either the officials had been surprisingly stupid or someone had confunded them; I had never tried to explain that mystery, though.

As I recall, Professor Snape had never really liked me. Probably because he had realised that I had never been related to any wizard. My family was completely deprived of any magical ancestry. If not for that owl those few years before, I would probably have never got to know that there was a world different than the one I had always known thanks tomy parents.

And now, after so many years, once I had finally got accustomed to the thought that I would never see this man again, he stood there, right in front of me, shaking my hand. I could not help but remember all those hours spent with him in the Potions class, and then, in the Defence Against Dark Arts class. I remembered perfectly those cold, black eyes, set upon me, expressing nothing but disgust.

But right now, I was no longer his student. Theoretically, we were equal now, teachers hired by Hogwarts' headmistress. But could that change anything? I knew that he still felt the very same antipathy towards me, just like he had before, when I had still been sitting at the school desks, and even the fact we were equal could not affect that. Besides, his work experience was so much bigger... was that not enough to make him more powerful, to have an upper hand?

"Sit down, please," the man invited me into the depths of the office with a small gesture. At the same time, Professor McGonagall said her goodbyes and left quietly. Soon, I could hear delicate clatter of the heels of her shoes on the stone floor of the dungeons.

Once again I felt as if I were a teenage girl who came there to fulfill her detention. I pulled the chair rather hesiantly, then took a seat, exactly like he had told me to, having no courage to even look up at him again.

Get a grip, I thought to myself, feeling definitely quite stupid. After all, I was no longer a student, a foolish youngster who had done something wrong. Actually, I kept doing everything just the way I should, just like I had been told. No longer are you the same Ravenclaw you used to be when you met him last time... you're a Professor, too, just like he is a Professor.

But it did not make the gap between us any smaller.

Snape took a seat at his desk, putting the tips of his long fingers together and setting his piercing eyes upon me. I could not help but shiver slightly; his sight was no longer as cold as it had used to be. Quite the opposite. It was full of something I could not quite describe, but it did not make it any less uncomfortable.

"So?" he asked, raising his brow a little.

"You may believe me, sir, that... that I really... haven't expected to see you here," I muttered before I could actually think about what I wanted to say properly. No wonder I immediately regretted all I had just told him and my face turned red.

"Neither did I," he answered casually, then he fell silent for a moment and finally moved away from the desk, leaning back in the chair. I, on the other hand, still kept sitting stiffly on the very edge of my chair. "I only know that you were sent here by Professor McGonagall. And I wonder why... after all, she would be able to talk to me just as well. There is nothing I could tell you but could not tell her."

For some reason his words made me feel ashamed. Did he really think that I had asked the headmistress for this task?

"I haven't expected anything like this," I mumbled, staring at the desk that stood between us.

"Of course you haven't," he responded, then stood up slowly and began to walk around the office. "Then know, please, that my miraculous escape has nothing to do with a miracle. Not for nothing I was once called the Potions Master... besides, I am not a complete imbecile, like some think."

The tone of his voice shocked me; it had not changed even a bit, even now as he was saying those words about himself – it was still cool and matter-of-fact, as if he was still telling me some kind of simple story.

"I knew who I was made to work with... but for some reason no-one really thought about the possibility that I could be prepared for any possible attacks from the Dark Lord. What's more, no-one even came to check on me, to see what state I was in when Potter had left the shack... He was stupid and told them all I had died. Whereas I, even though heavily injured, was still alive, and my antidote slowly fought the venom circulating in my veins."

It sounded a bit as if he revelled in his own story. Soon, he stood right by my chair and propped himself up on the desk with one hand. I almost jumped, feeling my heart beating madly. Hoping that he would not notice my motion, I moved slightly away from him.

There was something resembling some sick fascination painted upon his face as he went on with his story. The longer it lasted, the less confident I felt.

"I thought back then that I was doomed to die on the floor of that loathsome shack where once one of Potter's friends played a wolf... And yet, although slowly, the antidote got rid of the poison from my veins. It did not change the fact that I had lost a huge amount of blood, and I did not have a phial with the right potion. I have to admit that I did not do this one thing... I found it hard to catch a breath, feeling all of my wounds open whenever I tried to get some air. And yet... yet I did not die. However, when I finally regained my consciousness, all of this was already gone. With the last ounce of my strength I healed the worst of my wounds and with difficulty slipped out of that shack, making sure no-one would notice me. All of Hogsmeade's residents were somewhere around Hogwarts, getting rid of the corpses and saving all that could still be saved, so it was not so difficult to enter one of the houses. Fortunately, there still are wizards who keep some right potions in their first-aid kits... and although still weak, I soon found myself able to keep on going.

He stopped, finally turning his face towards me to look straight into my eyes. It was an unpleasant, piercing eyes, but for some reason I was unable to break this contact, even though I really tried to glance once again at my hands.

The whole story seemed to be unconceivable, however, one could notice some sense in it. Snape had told all of it, from the very beginning to the very end without hesitating even once, and now, I realised it was probable that he, in some almost miraculous way, got out of the Shrieking Shack still alive.

"But... but then..." I started hesitantly after a moment. "Then how is it possible that no-one looked for you after the battle? I mean... at least just to... to bury you or..."

Snape grimaced slightly.

"I am not the one to be asked about that, missy. Maybe for some reason they thought that the Dark Lord's snake had devoured me... I have no idea what Potter told them," he added, this time quietly, frowning a bit. It seemed that even after so many years his antipathy to Harry Potter was still not over. However, if it was just like he had said, it was nothing strange; after all, it would mean that the words of the Boy Who Lived stopped everyone from looking for Snape.

"Then... when you healed yourself, where did you go?" I asked, not quite sure if I was doing the right thing.

"This, Miss Shirley, is my own business. The only important thing is that I returned to where I should be... and, unfortunately, I don't really like the changes that have taken place here.

Maybe it was just my imagination but I had some strange feeling that he was talking inter alia about me. Honestly, I felt sorry for the boy who had just got used to the thought of being the Potions Professor; even Professor McGonagall had told me that Professor Snape's return would entail firing Blade, however, I did not quite understand her motivation. Why would she not just say no to Snape...?

I hoped that she would say even a word of explanation when a couple of hours later I stood in front of her in her office. Nevertheless, I heard nothing.

"Well... it explains a lot... however, it does not put us in a good light."

McGonagall sighed and sat down at the desk, removing the glasses to rub her eyes. She looked like she was very tired; and one could not be surprised. After that day I wanted to just disappear myself, as if I had never existed.

It was true that Snape's story did not put all the people, whom wizarding world now called heroes, in a good light. I still could not understand why no-one had gone to look for his body... If they had considered him dead, why had they not decided to bury him? I was convinced that everyone had realised that even though not many had liked him, he had played a significant role on the way to the victory of good.

Right now, though, when You-Know-Who was already dead, even the smallest sins seemed to be a great crime, since we had got overly used to peace. Perhaps that was why I so severely judged the behaviour of all those who had simply ignored the dead of the Professor.

"What now, Professor?" I asked after a while. "Why do we need to fire Professor Blade if Professor Snape is back?"

A blush returned onto Professor McGonagall's face, and her eyes were slightly narrowed when she looked at me, slipping the glasses onto her nose.

"There are things you are not aware of," she replied only. "Things... that I would rather you would avoid getting involved in. Mister Blade is a young, energetic man, I am certain that he won't have any difficulty with finding a new job. I will give him great references."

I did not like this answer at all but I trusted Professor McGonagall. However, at the same time I had to bite my tongue so a question about those things would not just slip out of my mouth. Unfortunately, excessive curiosity was one of my flaws and as soon as McGonagall mentioned that there were things in Hogwarts that she would rather hide away from me, I immediately desired to find out that secret, even though I knew I should not.

"But what with the students, Madam?" I glanced at her hesitantly. "I... I still remember that Professor Snape was... uh... well, not really liked by the students. Professor Blade, on the other hand, is quite popular."

I did not want it to sound as if I was questioning her competence, but as soon as I finished that sentence, I regretted it.

"Professors are not to be liked, Miss Shirley, they are here to teach. And I can assure you that there is no-one in the whole world who could match Professor Snape's skills, at least when it comes to brewing potions."

I was under some strange impression that it was not the subject Professor Snape wanted to teach in the first place, however, I did not allow myself to say another impudent comment.

"You know that I always care about the good of the school and the students. Professor Snape's return will do us all much good," she added in a sharp tone, glimpsing at me just the same way as she had used to when she had taken some House Points because of me. "Even though, I could not argue with the fact that he had never been popular, amongst the teachers just like amongst the students."

The last sentence surprised me so much that I could not muster any response to it. McGonagall used my silence and quickly asked me to leave the office.

While I was strolling down the corridors, I was lost in thoughts. So much that I did not even notice when someone approached me. Only when he had repeated my name several times, did I look up.

"Oh, hi, Neville," I said absentmindedly.

"You did not come back to dinner so... I began to worry. Even more when I did not see you anywhere around... Here, have some toasts, if you're hungry."

He handed me a napkin with some toasts, and I thanked him, taking it from him.

"Are you alright? You seem... a bit nervous."

I knew that I could not tell Neville anything, especially not in such a situation, when I had been asked to be discreet. Besides, I was not even sure if I wanted Neville to know... to hear anything from all that had happened during that day from me.

"Neville... it... it was a difficult day. Right now, honestly, the thing I'd enjoy most would be to find myself in a bed with a good read and stop thinking about reality," I confessed, and he sighed, nodding.

"I understand," he replied only, then patted me on the shoulder. "So... see you tomorrow."

He smiled weakly, then turned back and left, and I felt some unpleasant sensation in my stomach. How would he react when he saw Snape the next day during breakfast...?